


Comfort, Food

by charlottesometimes



Series: Stuffing Loki [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Belly worship, Feeding Kink, Jarvis is a match maker apparently, M/M, Stuffing, emotional overeating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:23:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottesometimes/pseuds/charlottesometimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki never had anyone to comfort him growing up on Asgard, so he turned to overeating as a way to sooth himself in times of stress. Now that Loki is working as an Avenger, living in the Avengers tower, Bruce has noticed how Loki disappears to his room whenever he's stressed out. Jarvis knows Loki overeats; he also knows Bruce watches stuffing porn. The AI might take advantage of this information, for Loki's and Bruce's own good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort, Food

**Author's Note:**

> This story is stuffing kink porn. If you're not into it, skip it.
> 
> Note: If you commented on this story previously, your comment is not gone because I deleted it. It is gone because I accidentally deleted this story and thus all the comments were deleted. I just wanted to put that out there in case people thought I was removing their comments selectively.

When Loki crept past the open door to the TV room where the Avengers were watching “Who's Line is it Anyway?” like he hoped to go unnoticed, his head down and his arms cradling a large number of plastic and paper shopping bags, it wasn't the first time that had happened. 

In fact, Bruce realized, this was what Loki had done after just about every fight the Avengers had gotten into during the four months Loki had been a tentative and still distrusted member of the team: Disappeared just after the debriefing, opting out of the post-game team-bonding activities Steve insisted upon, and then reappeared some hours later to carry a large number of shopping parcels furtively to his bedroom. 

Not that the secretive or antisocial nature of his post-fight routine was unusual, for him. He was living in the Avengers mansion, Tony said, but Bruce hardly saw him except for missions. He didn't come to communal meals, didn't show up for movie nights, and generally did not come out of his room unless Thor dragged him out. 

And yet, Bruce liked Loki. In the time they had managed to have to interact, Loki had struck him as a smart, wry, sensitive guy, someone Bruce might be able to relate to—whereas all the other Avengers were bull-headed jocks, full of confidence and bravado even if those traits made up for deficiencies in self-esteem. Tony was Bruce's closest friend on the team, but even he was a bit macho for Bruce's tastes. 

As Bruce turned away from the door, a worried look on his face in spite of himself, he caught Thor looking at him from the other side of the couch they both occupied. 

“My brother has always been a loner,” Thor said quietly, seeing Bruce's expression. “I do not think it is good for him, but my attempts to engage him have not gone well in recent years.” 

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking me to check on Loki?” he asked. He wasn't completely averse to the idea. He had, in fact, been wishing he had an excuse to go see what the Trickster was up to. 

“I am only saying it would do him no harm for someone on this team other than myself to show an interest in him,” Thor said. “And you seem to have noticed his lonely habits. Your effort would not be misplaced, should you choose to make one.” 

After that, Thor returned to laughing and joking with the other Avengers about the silly TV show, and Bruce found himself once again alone with his thoughts of Loki. 

It took about five minutes for him to decide and, as he stood, Thor caught his eye again. Bruce nodded, once, and Thor gave him a quiet smile. 

He made his way down the corridor until he was well out of hearing distance of the TV room, and asked Jarvis where Loki's room was. However the robot had been programmed, it didn't seem to believe in preserving the privacy of secretive and isolated Gods of Lies, and it told him without much trouble. 

A few minutes later, Bruce was knocking on a nondescript door in a hallway several floors above the one where most of the Avengers rooms were; evidently, Loki was serious about remaining isolated0. 

Bruce knocked. 

***

Loki sighed contentedly and set the empty container of chicken korma to the side. He had mixed the jasmine rice with the savory sauce and plump chicken right in the container, shamelessly mopping the rich concoction up with nan bread as he ate, letting the fatty sauce slide across his tongue with each bite. Now the container, meant for two, was empty, and Loki's stomach was feeling warm and pleasant. He looked down and, as he suspected, saw that nothing was showing, yet. Out of habit he rubbed the flat expanse beneath his T-shirt, but he was by no means in any pain. He wasn't even full yet. 

That was dinner number one. He had nineteen more in store, and then plenty of junk food and dessert on top of that. Leaning back against the wall, he surveyed the take-out feast he had procured for himself, and smiled. 

This was how Loki had always found comfort when he was under stress, since he was a child. No one had ever been willing to talk to him, to hold him, when he needed it, mostly because it seemed no one else on Asgard ever needed such a thing. Even his mother, when he was young, would laugh at his fears or his anxiety, pat him on the head, and send him on his way. He had quickly learned that, if he wanted to feel better, he would have to find a way that didn't require anyone's assistance. (In this way, Loki had acquired a massive ability to put food away, which had been lifesaving on Nornheim that time fire challenged the company to an eating contest, and Loki bested it. Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three had been impressed at the ability of Loki's stomach to stretch and stretch, and he had had to pretend it was a native, unexpected ability, and not won developed through years of comfort overeating.) 

When he was younger, his lonely overeating sessions had even been one of the few things that could help Loki sleep; exhausting himself with fullness and digestion would help him shut down like few other things would. It no longer had that benefit, now that he was grown and had done and seen terrible things—nothing had that benefit, now; nothing put him to sleep—but the benefit of temporary comfort remained. 

Loki decided to go for the baked ziti next—several pounds of creamy, tangy pasta which was one of his favorite Midgarian dishes. Actually, he had a lot of favorite Midgardian dishes, by now. In his four months as a provisional Avenger, he had found himself under stress quite a few times, and had already become known to several foodstuffs proprietors in the greater New York City area. He particularly liked “Indian,” “Greek” and “Italian” foodstuffs.

He shoveled the pasta down like a starving man, focused on the taste and the creamy texture, moaning shamelessly in his empty room. This was probably one of his favorite stages: When he was full but not so full that he could really feel it yet, when that fullness to come was still something to be anticipated. As he brought the fork to his mouth again and again with one hand, the other trailed absently up and down his stomach, sending little shivers through his spine. He was, as usual during these sessions, half hard inside his pants (which he would, soon enough, remove to give his gut room to breath). 

Before Loki knew it, he was mopping up the last dregs of cheese and tomato sauce from the ziti tin with the last hunk of garlic bread. He sighed happily and leaned back again, glimpsing himself in the mirror he had lowered to the floor so he could see the progress of his stomach from another angle. His stomach, when he lifted his shirt, was just barely—every so slightly—beginning to bow outward. He rubbed at it, letting his eyelids flutter a little in pleasure. 

He downed a couple of Dr. Peppers before he went on. He liked how the heavier fullness of food and the fiz combined; “soda pop” was a definite advantage to being stuck on Midgard atoning for his crimes. 

Next came the felafel-stuffed pitas, dripping with tangy tziki sauce. Loki pushed each bite down inside himself sigh a sigh of pleasure. 

When they were gone, he sat back once more, adding the Styrofoam container to the growing pile of empty wrappers beside him. 

His hands played absently over his no longer quite flat stomach. This was what most people would call “stuffed.” It was where the general population got to maybe a few times a year, at Yule and maybe a King's feast or two. This is where Loki would stop if he were at one of those public gatherings. His stomach was in the very earliest stages of stretching, creating a nice full feeling that made him settle even more lazily against the wall. He took a deep breath, reveling in how his stomach pushed out as he did so. 

He chose a sausage pizza next, then hot dogs with everything bought from a street vendor, then a steak with mashed potatoes and carrots, then a gourmet hamburger—the stuff Midgardians called “American food” all seemed to be rather red-meat-based, more like Asgardian fare, and Loki found it comfortingly nostalgic—washing everything down with more Dr. Pepper. 

By the time that was all inside him, Loki was beginning to really feel stretched, even though he wasn't half done yet. He knew the feeling of being uncomfortably full would long precede the point where he actually needed to stop, though, so this was not alarming. 

He looked down at his stomach to see that it was definitely straining against his shirt now. His stomach didn't really feel tight yet, but it was round and visible, both from above and in the mirror. He took a few moments to simply stretch backward and rub himself—was that the beginning of pain he felt as he took a deep breath? It seemed to be. He winced and massaged the side of his little mound. 

And then, just as he let out a small moan of satiation and pleasure, there was a knock at his bedroom door. 

***

Bruce waited a moment as the small sounds of movement inside the room ceased, as if Loki had frozen at the sound of Bruce's knocking. 

Finally, a voice came from behind the door, irritated but polite. 

“Who is it and what can I do for you?” 

Bruce licked his lips. “Uh,” he said. “It's Bruce.” What on earth was he going to say, exactly? “I just wanted to see if you … wanted to come and watch TV with us. Or … something.” 

There was a pause. “No, thank you,” Loki replied eventually. “I am well as I am. Please do not worry, and do not hesitate to be on your way.” 

Bruce winced. Maybe he should have come in with a plan of attack. “No, I mean, I'm worried about you,” he blurted out. Oh, god. “I just mean … You always lock yourself up in here, and I just don't think that's … I mean, if it were me, I'd be in danger of Hulking out, if I locked myself up alone all the time. It's not good for a person.” Bruce wanted very much to kick himself. 

He might have heard Loki scoff, but he wasn't sure. “I am quite alright, I promise you,” the Trickster replied. “You need not worry another moment about me. Please do feel free to return to the televised program you and the others were enjoying.” 

“Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly enjoying it,” Bruce said, leaning up against the wall beside the door and crossing his arms. “Maybe I decided to come see you because I wanted a bit more intelligent conversation.” 

Loki paused again before answering, “Well, I'm very tired, and in no state for intelligent conversation. Perhaps tomorrow. I'm very sorry.” 

Bruce opened his mouth to reply—though he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say—but another voice interrupted him. 

“Mr. Banner,” it came from above, so quiet it would have been a whisper had it been intoned by a human being and not an artificial intelligence, “would you be so kind as to remove down the hallway a few dozen yards or so? I have an important piece of information I would like to share with you.” 

Bruce shut his mouth like a confused fish, then opened it again. “Uh, ok, Loki, hold on a minute, I'll be right back.” 

He was fairly sure he heard Loki say something like “No need” as he took off down the hallway. 

“Thank you, sir,” Jarvis said when Bruce had moved himself a sufficient distance away from Loki's door. “Now, would you mind terribly if I asked you a rather personal question? If my line of inquiry make you uncomfortable rather than excited, I can delete all data that led me to pose these questions, sir.” 

Bruce found himself once again at a loss for words--“rather than excited”?--but after a moment he recovered. “Sure, Jarvis,” he said. “Ask away.” 

“Sir, are you a homosexual?” 

“Yes,” Bruce said, blinking. “It turns out that I am.” 

“And, do you sometimes use your personal computer to seek out and consume pornographic materials related to a kink called 'stuffing'?” 

Bruce felt himself flush and, without really meaning to, scanned up and down the hallway to be sure it was empty. 

“There is no one anywhere near here, sir, or I would not have brought it up,” Jarvis said. “Also, do not worry that I know it. I am not capable of judgmental thoughts on these sorts of things.” 

“Well, I really wish you would get to the point, one way or another,” Bruce muttered. 

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis continued. “The point is that Loki is currently stuffing himself quite silly and seems to be deriving what one might call 'sexual gratification' form the act. I thought perhaps you two would enjoy yourselves more if you indulged together, rather than separately.”

Two thoughts occurred to Bruce simultaneously. 

One was, quite clearly and loudly inside Bruce's mind, “Oh god yes.” 

The other was, not quite as loudly—though this is what he said out loud, to Jarvis—“Jarvis, that's an invasion of his privacy, to tell me that.” 

“Well, sir, judging by the spike in your heart rate when I said it, and the change in the pattern of blood flow in your body, you don't really mind my telling you.” 

“You can't just--” 

“I'm springing the lock on Loki's door, sir. You should be able to let yourself in any time.” 

Bruce laughed dryly. “You really can't do this,” he said. 

Jarvis did not respond. 

“Jarvis?” 

The AI remained silent. 

“For the record, Jarvis,” Bruce went on, starting back down the hallway to Loki's door, “I think I hate you.” 

He paused when he reached the door again, breathing quietly, and listened for any sound of Loki inside the room. 

He was immediately rewarded with a low, breathy moan, followed by a soft hiccup. 

Bruce's cock jumped at the sound, and the sudden fog in his head confirmed that Jarvis' words about Bruce's changing blood flow were probably accurate. 

He didn't have to go in, necessarily. He could easily flee back to his own room, look up some favorite videos on YouTube, maybe see if that one guy from Xtube was available for Skyping. Or … he could stand out here and listen … 

Loki sighed heavily on the other side of the door, and Bruce could here how labored it was. Bruce's pants were feeling fairly tight in the groin region, now, and his breath was speeding up. Was Loki really inside this room, just on the other side of this unlocked, flimsy door, stuffing himself until he couldn't breath right? 

Suddenly, Bruce was absolutely overcome with the need to know whether that was true. 

He opened the door. 

Loki froze in the act of bringing a fork to his mouth, one hand holding a container of Chinese take-out—or, rather, balancing a container of Chinese take-out on his lush, rounded belly. 

He was lying back against a stack of pillows near one wall, a pile of food wrappers lying to one side and a collection of unopened take-out, desserts and junk food to the other side. What was more, two twelve-packs of Dr. Pepper sat near to Loki's hand, with seven of them already emptied and sitting in a line beside the pile of empty food containers. 

All this Bruce saw at a glance. What his eyes were drawn to—what they lingered on—was the Trickster god himself. 

Loki's stomach was a heavy hemisphere in his lap as he reclined against the pillows, one hand massaging one of its creamy sides. The Trickster's T-shirt had been pushed up to reveal most of the expanse of belly, whether on purpose or because it had ridden up naturally Bruce couldn't be sure. The flesh Bruce could see was pink and smooth. Loki's pants bit into the underside in a way that made Bruce wince even as his mouth watered at the larger tableau. 

Loki's expression, however, was not part of what made the scene inviting. He looked—to Bruce's horror—betrayed, eyes wide. 

Then he got angry. 

“Norns, Bruce Banner, I told you no, I told you I was not interested in your televised programs or your bonding activities”--He tried to stand up, but was impeded by his belly, and had to sort of roll sideways in order to sit up enough to push himself to a standing position. Sadly, as he did so, he pulled his shirt down to hide the beautiful gut. “Now get out of here, get out, get out!” 

It was not one of Loki's more eloquent moments, Bruce thought distantly, but he had been caught in something of an odd position. 

But then, as Loki drew closer, he stopped. Bruce stared at him, trying to parse out the Trickster's expression: It was suddenly thoughtful, curious, uncertain, no longer a mask of rage. 

“Where are you coming from?” Loki asked tentatively. Bruce noticed with another jolt to his cock that Loki's face was flushed, though from embarrassment or from the effort of consuming so much food he could not be sure. His imagination told him it was the latter. 

“Uh, down the hall,” Bruce replied unhelpfully. He was breathing harder now. 

“Are you alright?” Loki asked warily. 

Oh, Bruce realized: Loki had seen Bruce's arousal. Possibly also noticed his short breath, and his own flush. 

Well, Bruce thought. He had opened the door, hadn't he? This could either go really, really well, or create a really, really awkward situation that neither of them could get out of. 

“Jarvis told me you were stuffing yourself,” Bruce said. “I ...” He trailed off. 

“Wanted to save me from myself?” Loki replied wryly. 

Bruce shook his head. “No,” he said. There was no way Loki could miss the roughness in his voice. He swallowed. “I wanted to help you.” 

Loki's eyes went wide, then narrowed. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously. “Help me how?” 

“I could … feed you. If you're too stuffed to go on yourself. And I could ...” Bruce stepped forward, desire absolutely obliterating common sense. He put a hand on Loki's bulging stomach, trapped as it was inside his T-shirt and jeans. He rubbed lightly across the fabric surface, swallowing hard. “I like this kind of thing,” he said quietly as he rubbed, carefully not looking at Loki's face, eyes fixed on his hand as it made its way in slow, soft circles around Loki's midsection. The curve of it was as intoxicating as Bruce had known it would be, but he longed to put his fingers on the hot flesh beneath the fabric. 

Loki's own breath began to speed, and Bruce finally looked up into the other man's face.

And what he saw there brought him partway back to himself. Loki's expression was open, vulnerable, and thoughtful; it was unlike anything Bruce had ever seen on Loki's face. 

“Do you … really?” Loki asked in a quiet voice. Bruce nodded. “You like it … how?” Loki went on. 

“I like it … uh ...”--

“Do you want to touch me?” Loki asked, his voice even quieter now. 

Bruce nodded vigorously. 

“And for me to touch you, too?” 

Bruce grinned. “If you want,” he said. “If you're up to it, I mean. I'd prefer to stuff you until you can't really move too well, honestly.” 

Loki's breath caught. “And then?” he asked. 

“And then I'll put my mouth on you,” Bruce said, slipping one hand up and under the shirt—at last, feeling that hot, smooth roundness, marred only by the cruel constraint of Loki's jeans. Loki shivered beneath his touch and tipped his head back. “I'll start with your mouth, but I'll work my way down. And when I'm through lapping the cum from your cock, I'll turn you on your side. I'll be very careful of your huge, beautiful belly. I'll be sure to keep rubbing it even while I get your ass ready and, when your begging and so turned on you don't even know where you are anymore, I'll stuff you one more time—I'll stuff my cock in your ass.” 

Loki seemed to have been floored by this performance, his cock now just as inconvenienced by his jeans as his gut was. His knees were trembling and his eyes were most of the way closed as they looked at Bruce. His pupils were, now, so large his eyes looked black. 

Deciding that Loki's state was probably consent, Bruce guided the Trickster from where he shakily stood, taking him back down to lie against the pillows where Bruce had found him. Bruce quickly stood up again to close and lock the door, then knelt beside the panting god. 

“Do you want me to feed you, or can you do it yourself?” Bruce asked, resuming the belly massage. 

Loki shifted on the pillows to make himself more comfortable, and looked up at Bruce. His pupils were still blown wide, but he looked a bit more calculating once more. 

“Come here,” he said, crooking a finger at Bruce. Bruce leaned in. 

No sooner had he moved forward than Loki seized his shirt front and pulled him into a kiss, letting his fingers drift out to slip inside the waistband of Bruce's dress pants, sliding the shirt untucked before gliding up Bruce's torso, to his nipple, brushing the sensitive nub. Bruce moaned into Loki's mouth, his own hands still moving on Loki's protruding belly. 

Loki finally pulled away and sat back again, looking pleased with himself. “I would like you to feed me,” he said, voice much cooler than he looked. 

Bruce grinned. “Perfect,” he said. 

He looked over the remaining food items—noticing that, to his glee, there were more things Loki hadn't eaten yet than things he had. “Are you really going to finish all this?” Bruce asked in awe. 

“I certainly intend to,” Loki replied, his own hand on his gut again, moving absently. 

They started by finishing the carton of Chinese food Loki had been munching through when Bruce interrupted him—sesame chicken—and then moved on to a few other Chinese dishes—pork fried rice, two egg rolls, wanton soup, chicken and mushroom.

Loki was a good feedee. He opened his mouth wide and obedient every time Bruce brought the fork to his lush, wet mouth, chewing and swallowing swiftly before opening up for more. As they got through the Chinese, Bruce watched as Loki's gut swelled ever so slightly more as the new food slipped down in among the mounds Loki had already consumed. 

When the Chinese food was done, the cartons tossed to the side with the rest of the empties, Loki sighed happily and stretched—only only wince in pain and discomfort as he did so, curling on himself swiftly and bringing his arms to his belly. 

“Oh, Loki,” Bruce heard himself say, moving quickly from where he had been looking over the remaining food once more to Loki's side. He pushed the Trickster's own hands away from his stomach, taking the creamy done in both of his own hands with gusto, massaging with a bit more force now. Loki continued to wince, but his pain seemed not to get worse; he took shallow breaths and allowed Bruce to sooth him. 

“Let's make you more comfortable,” Bruce said after a few minutes, when Loki's shoulders had relaxed some and he was reclining once more. 

Loki did not protest as Bruce sat him up and pulled his now-tight T-shirt over his head, exposing his hot belly to the cool room. A small sigh escaped from Loki. 

Bruce sat him back again. Then, pushing Loki's expanding gut up and away from the waistband of his jeans, he nimbly popped open the button there. 

The relief was immediate, if not complete, as Loki's gut poked outward even more, no longer constrained. Bruce didn't stop there, though, pulling Loki's jeans over his hips and down his legs to leave the god in nothing but his boxer briefs, his cock so hard it was, now that it was freed, tapping the underside of his round stomach. 

Bruce began to massage with renewed vigor, stroking every inch of Loki's engorged stomach. It was, by now, packed full of nine full, heavy meals and seven Dr. Peppers. The food and drink was a solid weight inside Loki, making him feel sedate and calm even through the little twinges of pain and the difficulty breathing. He closed his eyes and lounged back, enjoying the firm hands on his distended stomach, each warm stroke from Bruce's hands both soothing and arousing. 

Suddenly a small sound escaped Loki—the hiccups were back. They'd gone away when Bruce scared him by barging in, but they were back now. 

“Oh god yeah,” he heard Bruce sigh as another hiccup overcame him, and Loki cracked an eye open. 

“You like that, too?” Loki asked—though the last word was cut off by another hiccup. 

“I do,” Bruce said, voice rougher now even than it had been before. 

“Well, I don't,” Loki pouted. He waited to hiccup once more before going on, to avoid being cut off. “Give me Dr. Pepper. I want to make them--”

Hic! 

– “go away”--

Hic!

Bruce smiled and handed Loki a Dr. pepper. 

“More soda than that,” Loki said. 

Bruce pushed the half-full 12-pack toward the Trickster, his face intrigued. 

Loki screwed one of the bottles open and, despite the twinges of pain in his gut, chugged it all off at once. He imagined he could feel his gut swelling as he did so. 

Then he popped another bottle open—Hic!--and did the same thing again. He brought the empty bottle down from his wet lips with a shallow sigh, breathing hard. He waited. 

Hic! 

“God damn it,” Loki muttered, pulling out another soda. He chugged it down. 

Bruce was rubbing more firmly now, fingers kneading in what almost seemed like a deliberate fashion as the bubbles inside Loki churned. Loki waited for a minute while Bruce's knuckles worked on him, making him groan again in pleasure. 

The groan was not interrupted by a hiccup. In fact, he lay back and let Bruce massage him in this new way for several minutes, floating on his fullness and Bruce's touch, and the hiccups did not reappear. 

“Mmm,” Loki said finally. “I think we can go on now.” 

The next half an hour was probably one of the most mystifying of Bruce's life—and that's saying something. Loki and he went through—with Loki lying uncomplaining beneath Bruce's touch and forkful after forkful, even as his stomach expanded visibly—a container of Pad-Thai noodles, a huge, heavy burrito wrapped in tin foil, a pizza—evidently, judging by the empty pizza box to Loki's left, the second of the evening—and a take-out box full of white rice, black beans and ropa vieja. 

But as Loki swallowed the last of the rich Cuban meat, red sauce running down the corner of his mouth, it was evident he was in pain. His swallows had been slowing for several meals now. 

And no wonder, Bruce thought in awe. Loki's stomach was a tight little mountain perched on his otherwise thin torso, resting heavily on his thighs. It wasn't just sticking out in the front; it bowed out to each side, too, making it look like Loki had swallowed an oversized beach ball. As Bruce continued to massage it, alternating between a light touch and more pressure, he could feel just how stuffed tight it really was. 

Loki's eyes were half-lidded, his head swaying as if he were having trouble keeping it up. He blinked slowly, heavily, and let it fall backward, looking at Bruce through his eye lashes as he breathed shallowly. The pain he was feeling was evident only in his slower pace and a thin line between his eyebrows. 

“Let's take a break,” Bruce said quietly, positioning himself between Loki's legs to better rub the huge gut. Loki nodded dully. 

Bruce glided his fingers on each side of the expanse of Loki's distended flesh, then moved one hand to the underside of the hemisphere of belly and the other hand to the crest. He worked his way up with both hands, finally reaching just below Loki's solar plexus, and kneading more firmly than he had yet. 

After a moment of kneading and searching for the right angle, it worked: Loki opened his mouth, face still contorted in pain, and let out a mighty belch that lasted a good three seconds. 

As soon as it was over, the sated, horny Trickster god clapped a hand to his mouth and smothered a giggle. “Oh my,” Loki said. “That wasn't good manners, was it.” 

“I don't think anything about this situation is good manners, exactly,” Bruce said warmly. 

Loki shook his head, smiling now. The line between his eyes was less pronounced, but still there. “No,” he said. “It isn't.” 

“Do you think you can go on?” Bruce asked. 

“I don't know,” Loki said, a wicked gleam appearing in his eye. “I think it's time you started to persuade me.”

Bruce wasn't sure what Loki meant, but Loki made this irrelevant as he pulled Bruce in by his shirt front once more, locking their mouths together and sliding one hand into Bruce's shirt again—the other hand couldn't reach across Loki's belly—before dipping his hand lower to unfasten Bruce's trousers. Taking the hint, Bruce slipped out of his own clothes, leaving him as nearly naked as Loki was. 

But it quickly became evident that, while Loki did want Bruce stripped, it was Loki's body that Loki wanted worshiped. He pulled Bruce's head down to the crook of his neck and tipped his head to expose the flesh there. Bruce obediently began to suck and nip at Loki's skin, earning him small sighs as Loki's own hands went absently to his own bloated belly. 

Loki pulled Bruce's hands and mouth to a variety of spots that seemed to please Loki, and Bruce gave each one loving attention. By this time, Loki's erection was weeping, smearing precum through his boxer briefs and onto the underside of his engorged gut. 

Bruce lifted his head from Loki's nipple and brought one hand to continue his ministrations there as he picked up a cake box with the other, and located a fork. 

“You want me to keep touching you?” Bruce asked. 

Loki nodded, his eyes closed and head tipped back. 

“Then you're going to have to open up,” Bruce said. He brought a forkful of cake to Loki's moist lips, and drew his hand away from Loki's hard nipple. 

Loki let out a whine from the back of his throat. “But I'm so full,” he said. 

“You're not even half done,” Bruce chided. “Look at all this food you have left to eat.” 

“Too much,” Loki said. “I got a lot more than I usually do. Thought I could do it. I was wrong.” 

“Well, maybe you just need something to settle your stomach,” Bruce said. He put the forkful of cake down and pulled out a Dr. Pepper. 

This Loki accepted without much comment, opening his mouth for Bruce to tip the dark liquid into it. He finished three more sodas without complaint. 

The world was now, for Loki, a sort of blur of painful-pleasurable overfullness and longing in his flesh. He was hardly aware of anything going on around him but for the warm weight of Bruce beside him, and he strained toward that weight. 

Loki realized, distantly, that he had rarely—if ever?—allowed himself to be this vulnerable in his life. 

“Open up, now,” Bruce said. Loki did. The cake was moist and wonderful, and for a moment Loki almost forgot how painfully jam-packed he already was. 

When he swallowed, of course, he remembered, and let out a moan. But then Bruce's warm hands were on his painful stomach, and—ah!--Bruce's mouth was on his thigh, moving up, hot and wet and—gone. 

“Open up,” came Bruce's voice again. 

Bruce fed Loki the whole cake like that, alternating bites with distractions, teasing the Trickster with nibbles to his most sensitive areas, flicking his tongue lightly along the shaft of Loki's cock, fondling his tightening balls. Loki's moans were low and frequent, and it was hard to say which were in pleasure and which were in pain. Both Loki's and Bruce's hands spent a great deal of time rubbing at the god's still-expanding waistline. 

Bruce, for his part, was panting and nearly desperate by now. And yet he didn't want it to end, unsure as he was if he would ever get a chance for a repeat performance. 

For Loki, the cake was torture—but Bruce's hand and mouth on him made it worth it. 

Mostly. By the time he swallowed the last bite, Loki could hardly even take shallow breaths, and he realized there were tears in his eyes. He tried shifting his weight to make himself more comfortable, but nothing improved the tight pressure he felt through the engorged, abused organ in his abdomen. 

Bruce tossed the cake box onto the pile of empty containers and sat back down beside Loki. 

That's when he really went to work. He knew from experience that Loki's pain could only be taken away in one way, at this point: Pleasure had to obliterate it. 

Stroking around what he now knew to be one of Loki's most sensitive areas—his belly button—he put his mouth, finally, on Loki's throbbing cock. 

It took about ten seconds for Loki to let out a moan that was undoubtedly one of pleasure. He tried to press up into Bruce's mouth, but the weight of his engorged belly kept it from doing very much. Bruce brought his own mouth down more fully in response, taking the cock into his throat, feeling it fill him. His eyes fluttered closed at the sensation—it had been too long since Bruce felt it. 

Loki's form grew slick with sweat beneath Bruce's roving hands as he continued to slide his mouth up and down Loki's cock. The god was trying to move from the pleasure of it, but mostly managed to shake, moan and breath hard—his breathing seemed to be coming easier now that the pleasure had made him forget the pain. 

When Bruce sensed that Loki was close, he took his mouth from Loki's cock just long enough to wet three fingers. He put his mouth back down, going a big more slowly, and began to massage Loki's ass, slowly and shallowly at first. It relaxed a little, inviting him in, and he pushed inside. 

By the time Loki came—his cock exploding as he tipped his head back, whole body shaking, gut quivering with the force of it—his hole was large enough for four fingers. 

Bruce came up from his position between Loki's legs and looked the Trickster over. 

Loki was utterly wrecked. His eyes were hooded with pleasure and satiation, his huge stomach mounding a truly heroic distance into the air and hanging over the sides of his torso. He was absently stroking at one side of the creamy blimp he had once called a stomach, shivering slightly at his own touch and smiling in a blissed-out way through his labored breaths. His cock was spent, but if the flush creeping up his neck was any indication, he was looking forward to the last thing Bruce had promised him as much as Bruce was. 

“Come on, Bruce,” he said throatily “You did this. You made me like this. Now fuck me. Fuck me properly.” 

That was it, for Bruce. Moving as quickly as he could possibly move without sacrificing gentleness—he had promised the gentleness, too, after all—he got his arms under Loki's bloated torso and, holding the belly with one hand to keep it from sloshing too much, rolled the Trickster onto his side. 

Loki's hand massaged the exposed side of his huge stomach. “Mmm,” he said. “That feels nice.” 

Bruce felt himself grinning as he ran a hand up and down the length of Loki's body—and realize that he was, unexpectedly, admiring the whole of the Trickster, not just the gut. He imagined it wouldn't be difficult to be completely horny with a naked Loki who hadn't overeaten at all. 

Bruce pushed four fingers into the sighing god's ass to make sure it was still loose—it was—and then located the lubricated condom he kept against tall odds inside his wallet. Then he laid down beside Loki, bracing himself with one arm on the ground and the other on the firm, solid expanse of Loki's middle, grasping it to anchor himself (it held up well for this usage), and slipped himself inside Loki's warm hole. 

Loki gasped a little at Bruce's first thrust. Bruce was gone by then, though. It was all he could do to keep his movements gentle as he thrust himself again and again into the Trickster, the hand on Loki's gut serving the duel purpose of keeping Bruce in place behind him and driving Bruce absolutely wild with its huge roundness. 

Loki was a little better able to move with Bruce now that he wasn't literally trapped beneath his own massive stomach, and he eagerly thrust back into Bruce as Bruce moved. The eagerness nearly sent Bruce over the edge, but he managed to hang on a while longer; miraculously, he could see Loki's own cock hard again, bouncing and leaking as Bruce fucked Loki's willing ass. 

In a desperate attempt to send Loki over the edge once more, Bruce began pressing firmly into Loki's overextended gut, drawing moans from the Trickster. 

After a few minutes, it worked—Loki's cock shot cum all over the rug, Loki's thighs, and Loki's belly. 

Bruce came second after that, finally releasing himself with a groan, his body going stiff as his cock spent itself, black spots crawling into the edges of his vision with the force of it. 

When Bruce knew what was going on around him again, he was lying on the floor behind Loki, one hand on the god's hip. He pushed himself up and moved around the beached Trickster to sit in front of him. 

Loki's face was serene, a heavy-lidded smile replacing his usual considering frown. 

Now, with the haze of desire dispelled (mostly), Bruce suddenly felt rather awkward—and not least because he feared that Loki would now feel exposed and silly with his huge stomach. 

“So … how was that?” Bruce asked, hoping those were the right words. (The right words for what? He wondered.) 

“That was fantastic, Bruce Banner,” Loki replied quietly. “And even if you decide you regret this, if you decide never to look at me in the eye again because of this, I will still remember it fondly.” 

Bruce frowned. “Why would I regret it?” he asked. 

Loki looked away. “It is a bit … odd,” he said. 

Bruce snorted. “I've dreamed of scenes like this since I was a teenager,” he said. “I'm not about to regret anything.” 

“Me neither,” Loki mumbled. “I, too, have often wished someone else were here when I did this.” 

Bruce was seized with the sudden desire to lie down on his side, facing Loki, and did so. He almost sat right back up, feeling that the pose was a bit intimate, but something in the Trickster's expression made him stay where he was. “Good,” he said quietly. “Then no one regrets anything.” 

Loki stared at him, apparently at a loss for words. Considering he was currently neither in any apparent pain nor floored with pleasure, that might've been a first. 

“What, then, are you still doing here, exactly?” he asked after a few moments of staring. “We are finished, I believe.” 

But something about the last few hour's intimacy allowed Bruce to see through that. He smiled, realizing that a strange warmth in his chest was blooming, and that it had something to do with his sudden desire to make Loki smile. “I'm not about to leave you in this state,” he said. “What if your stomach gets painful again? Who will rub it?” 

Loki sniffed. “I suppose it is your duty to tend to me, since you did insist upon that whole cake there at the end,” he said. 

Bruce smiled, and began to rub Loki's belly once more. “I suppose it is,” he said. 

Loki relaxed again, closing his eyes. His expression went soft. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“It's my pleasure,” Bruce replied, just as quietly. He hesitated, then went on. He was really going out on a limb, but something told him it was what he wanted to say. “Maybe we could also try spending some time together that doesn't involve stuffing or sex, some time.”

Loki's eyes snapped open, but he didn't glare, or speak harshly. He stared. “Do you mean that?” he asked in a small voice. 

Bruce nodded. “I'd always wanted to get to know you better, but I didn't know how to ask,” Bruce said. Then he laughed. “I guess this was as good a way as any.” 

“And you still want to?” Loki asked, eyes wide. 

Bruce nodded. 

If Bruce was being honest with himself, he would say Loki looked a little misty-eyed, at that.

“Hey, what do you say we get you into bed, and see if we can't get some sleep?” Bruce asked. “You'll feel better after if you've slept.” 

Loki smiled and nodded. 

Bruce had to help Loki into bed, it being all Loki could really do to hold his gut up to keep it from sloshing too painfully as he tottered across the room. He collapsed backward, shifting his weight to the most comfortable position he could find. 

Bruce turned the light off and laid beside him, once again rubbing that huge, wonderful gut. Loki sighed happily once more, and settled back into the pillows. 

“Good night, Loki,” Bruce said quietly after a while. 

But Loki was already asleep, breath even and deep.


End file.
